Thank you! - Video

Hey guys!

This post is just to say thank you to everyone that reads this blog and also to everyone that gives me feed back on my pieces. Every comment gives me a new out look on my writing and honestly makes my day. So thank you guys!

The dream at the moment is that I do for you, what other writers have done for me, which is to write a story or poem so sincere and relatable that it feels like your emotions have been converted to words. If I have done that at any point, my dreams are slowly coming true :)

Below, is a link to a video I made to show my appreciation. I have many more screen shots in my collection but these are the only ones I could find right away. Please let me know if you cannot access the video.

Have a great weekend!

Love,
Mensu.

https://vimeo.com/106016654

Morning After.

It was the morning after.
We sat opposite each other in the room.
My mother and I.
Me on the bed, while she, was on the couch...

"I feel the need to physically rest my head on someone. This is too much for me. C-Can I.. Can you please sit next to me?"

She shook her head before saying,
"No."

"No?"

"No... Because days will come when you will feel this way, worse. And no one will be there to offer a shoulder. And it will consume you, and you will feel the burning desire to run from the world. From yourself. And if you do not learn now, you will indeed run. So, no. I will not sit next to you."

We stared at each other. My eyes hardly making out her features.

"Cry." She said.

I do not respond.

"Cry. Your eyes look like they are made of glass."
"..."
"There is a strength you are trying to find. It doesn't lie in the toughness of your face or the distance in your eyes. It lies in your weakness, in sinking to the floor and letting the beauty of your brokenness fix you. So my daughter, If you feel need to cry, if your heart is heavy, do not hold it back. Cry."

It was the first time I had cried about you.
It was silent then loud.
Painful then freeing.

Like unlocking a cage I had built for myself.
They say the worst kind of battles, are the ones we fight against ourselves.



Inspired by:
Kintsukuroi
(n.) (v. phr.) "to repair with gold"; the art of repairing pottery with gold or silver lacquer and understanding that the piece is more beautiful for having been broken.

...

Looking at her eyes, you could tell she wasn't there.
She had travelled to another world and left a body behind.

I had stared at her across the restaurant table all through the night.
Curious about who she was before it all happened.
Wishing that if I looked at her long enough, the rhythm of my heartbeat will bring her soul back to life.

...

Her laughter was long and hard.
The kind that kept you up all night.
Dancing with words.
Constructing and reconstructing ways to hear her laughter again.

...

One day we will come back here.
To the place that we first met.
And it will be a painful kind of joke
That we thought we could last forever.

Because isn't that what love is?
Or lust or infatuation. Whatever you call it.
Isn't that what it is?
This immortal kind of hope.

Many Sweet Words

You are words.
You are many words.
You are many sweet words.
You are many sweet words I want to hear.
You are many perfectly timed sweet words I want to hear.

It's scary.
That you are words.
Because words can be fragile.
They build and they break,
But they can be fragile.
And they can be an outlet to your soul.
But they also camouflage.
And they change.
They are like liquid.
Conforming to the shape of context.

"I love you too"

So don't be words.
Darling,
I would say be actions.
But those can often be like words.
Natural chameleons.
I see what you show me.
I see what I want to see.

So darling, be glass.
Lay your soul on the table next to mine.
Let us see you.
Let me see you.
In all that you are not.
In all that you are.

Let me choose to love you.
Or choose to walk away.

Love Letter - My Sweet Poison

You.

Oh, you.

You are what keeps me up all night.

And I do not mean that I cannot sleep at night.

Wouldn’t that be easy?

If that was what lay heavily between us.

I mean you are the one that invades my unconsciousness.

You are my walls.

Against which the strengths of my character clash.

You are my thing

You are my thing that kills me.

You are my thing I think about when a line comes up in a movie.

You are my default shell.

The room I run into when life happens.

So why do I write to you?

Because I love you restlessly.

Without knowing what to do or how to show you.

I love you fiercely.

It’s a love that makes me want to give to you, the world.

I love you overwhelmingly.

It’s a love that builds me with joy and destroys me with worry.

So intensely that I want to heal every hurt you have suffered.

I want to pamper your mind, carry you through the future. That way, no hurt may come to you.

I love you.
My sweet poison, my delicious scar.

I love you.

Utterly. Ferociously. Relentlessly.